


The Subtle Spirit

by Lavender_Fields



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Extremely Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, M/M, Murder, Non-Consensual Blood Drinking, Religion, Suicide Attempt, Undead, Vampire Turning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:55:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22232899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_Fields/pseuds/Lavender_Fields
Summary: As far as Immortal Brides go, Jonathon was the first to throw himself off the castle wall rather than accept Dracula's hand. That didn't make him the best, but it certainly made him the most interesting, and Dracula was not in the habit of wasting such beautiful potential.
Relationships: Dracula/Jonathan Harker
Comments: 15
Kudos: 379





	The Subtle Spirit

**Author's Note:**

> Title based on the sonnet 'Oh, Beauty, passing beauty!' by Alfred Tennyson.
> 
> All I have to say is the show really dropped the ball on the 'Jonathon Harker' storyline potential and I'm very upset about it. So, here's my response to Moffat and Gatiss destroying all my gay horror vampire dreams. 
> 
> PS. It's been a while since I've worked on a fic so please try and forgive any typo/grammar errors. I have no one to help proof-read my work! If you see anything glaring please let me know so I can edit is ASAP.

**Prologue**

Dracula had to admit, having his eyes seared by the reflective light of the crucified sun while watching a dead man hurl himself from his castle walls was not how he had envisioned this endeavor unfolding. A voyage to England had been his work for several decades, all the delicate pieces finally falling together over the past few months - and yet here was an unwelcomed and yet entirely all too endearing distraction.  
  
Jonathon Harker, mild mannered and love-sick, had stumbled into The Count’s castle like a thin river feeding into the grand ocean. Dracula had expected little from the man; perhaps some acceptably-engaging conversation and a steady supply of English blood to help baptize the vampire into the New World. And yet, somehow, in their short months together, the Lawyer had done what little else in the world could do - surprise him. After five centuries wandering the earth as the lone wolf in an endless acreage of sheep, there was nothing more delightful to Dracula than a surprise.

So there they had stood, The Count feeling his fate rapidly changing course as he watched Jonathon twitch and convulse back to life on the stones of the roof, his eyes already looking to the horizon mere moments after opening. 

“Well, don't you see? This changes everything. Stay. Stay! You could be my finest bride.”

Dracula couldn’t imagine a more splendid sight - Johnny was beautiful, standing at the edge of the world, silver sun lining the frayed and sunken skin still clinging to his rotting bones. Trembling, shaking feebly in his recently undead state, body weak and yet mind impossibly preserved through the death Dracula had delivered upon him. 

“The others just became beasts, but you've kept your spirit.” And what a spirit it was, bright and defiant just as he had been in his final moment of salvation Dracula had offered to him. “You’re just like me.”

  
Something behind those baby-blue eyes had shifted at that, even more clarity and conviction managing to shine through the dead and glassy irises. 

“I’m not like you!” Jonathon spat, turning to hit The Count with that cursed light and blinding him for an internal instance. In the midst of the blindness, when John surrendered himself to the mercy of the air rather than the benevolence of the Count, it was like Dracula was truly seeing the Sun again for the first time. 

Johnny was lost to the Danube River, for now. But Dracula knew the man’s thoughts as well as his own. They sang to him from his veins as the vampire closed his eyes and tried to swirl them greedily on his tongue. 

One word, louder than all of them. ' _Mina’._ _  
  
_

He would not be difficult to find, though would likely prove harder to sway. But wasn’t there the promise of fun in that? 

  
_____________________________________________________________  
  
**1 Month Later: At The Convent**

The nuns had proved much harder to break than he had anticipated, no doubt all thanks to their hold-fast Leader, Van Helsing. That one was a rare vintage, indeed. He would have to preserve some of her to savor on his long voyage to England the following fortnight. But that was a thought for another time; the more pressing matter was how he was going to gain entry into the convent that was hiding his Bride away from him. 

His Johnny was in there somewhere, locked behind several layers of bars and doors most likely- whether for his protection or for the Sisters. No, he wouldn’t have hurt anyone just yet. Poor, polite Jonathon, much too cordial to allow himself the peace of surrendering to his carnal instincts. He must have been in quite the state now; not many wore the undead life with grace before their first drink. Though, Johnny had done nothing if not defy the predictable at every turn, so perhaps Dracula was to find him in a finer state than he anticipated.

This thought was ruled out the moment Dracula had been able to track Jonathon to the eastern window of the second tower. Through the small etched window he could see him, laid flat and silently drowning in a black pool of his own making. The Count couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Self sacrifice, Jonathon? How very nobel.” He smiled, relishing the look of horror granted to him as John slowly turned his head to meet eyes with him through the window. 

A stake through the heart - clever. Should Johnny have succeeded in convincing his fiance to complete the deed, The Count would have been very put out. He had invested too much time in the boy to lose him so carelessly. But as it were, a self-inflicted stake would prove no harm. Well, no harm that would matter in the long-run. 

“But it won’t work. Not unless someone else does it for you.” He explained carefully, though Jonathon appeared too weak to give much response to him. The Count smiled again, finally seeing his way in.  
  
“Do you want me to do that? Do you want me to kill you? All you have to do is invite me in.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jonathon hadn’t thought it possible to feel more disgust and hatred for himself than he had when he finally mustered the courage to drive the dull stake through his hollow chest - yet, staring at Dracula like a drowning man stares at the shore was proving even harder for him to stomach. How was he relieved to see him? The monster who had cursed him to this state in the first place? Though he could not deny it, with the Count offering him yet another chance of salvation - true salvation this time - Jonathon could feel the soft tendrils of relief beginning to tenderly wrap themselves around his mind. Peace, at last. If that were possible.  
  
“All you have to do is invite me in.” Dracula sang, his words laced in mocking promise.

Jonathon nodded, at least he thought he did. It was getting hard for him to tell exactly how he was controlling what remained of his body.  
  


“Do it. Please.” Jonathon croaked back in response, barely able to shape the words in his own mother tongue. The end was so close, he could envision the blinding light that might welcome him into the oblivion he so desperately craved. “Come in.”

He closed his eyes. He thought of Mina, or at least he tried to. He was already forgetting her face again. He could see the waves of blonde hair, could hear the echos of her elegant voice- though no longer make out the sweet words they conveyed. He wondered if she would remember him like this, a shell of the man whom she had once deemed worthy to share her life with. Perhaps, if he were lucky, she would remember his heart - remember how he had tried, even in his moments of monstrosity, to be true to his love and shield her from harm. 

Jonathon tried to keep this hope alive in his chest as he waited for the final sting of release, and yet, none came. He could hear the footsteps entering the room, could even sense Dracula’s approach, but still, he remained untouched and pinned in place by the stake he was beginning to loath just as much as his own flesh. Suddenly, the Count's voice rang clear and relaxed.

“Thank you, Johnny. But now, I’m afraid I’m going to have to leave you here while I deal with some other business. As a Lawyer, I’m sure you’ll understand.”

The words came as shocking as a hand drawn too close to the flame, and Jonathon’s eyes shot open once more. “You said….you promised!” Jonathon wheezed, a building desperation lacing every hollow word that struggled to creak and groan out of his corpse.

  
“Well, technically, I already killed you.” Dracula mused, rolling up his sleeves in preparation for the slaughter, though blood was already flecked upon his pale forearms and dark brow. John let out a feeble moan that seemed to stretch out before him like a mourning song, his sunken eyes squeezing shut again as the despair continued to seep out from him. John could feel the floorboards beneath him give slightly as Dracula knelt beside him, a single finger running coldly down his leathery cheek. 

The vampire made a soft ‘tisk’ sound, like a parent scolding their disobedient child. “Hush now, It’s just easier this way. Can’t have you running off again. Stay put and I’ll be back with dinner shortly.”

  
Cold dread radiated through Jonathon's body, somehow replacing the despair he felt with an even thicker elixir. He tried to shake his head but the motion was lost in a harsh shiver that racked his body. Dracula had already turned to the door before John could plea helplessly once more. The harsh slam of the compartment’s door signaled that Jonathon had been left alone again with nothing but his broken body and agonizing thoughts.

The screams that soon filled the air of the convent were a horrible chorus that mingled with Jonathon’s own cries of anguish. Which one of those shrill voices might belong to Mina? How many of those poor souls were being flayed and ripped apart by the creature that he had brought to their door? Time seemed to stretch before him like an endless purgatory. Perhaps that was what he deserved... 

He was sinking deeper and deeper into their sounds, each cry sending him further back until he could feel the screams vibrating through the air, hitting his skin at different frequencies, each as stinging and sharp as the last. A thousand tiny teeth pressing into him at once. He hadn’t even realized his trembling hands had been gripping the wood protruding from his chest until he felt several of his fragile remaining nails crack from the pressure. He had to leave. He had to get out of this cursed place, he had to….  
  


“Johnny! Oh god, Jonathon!” A panicked voice sang to him, an angel beckoning him out from the darkness. For a moment, Jonathon forgot where he was. He was floating in a warm bath, the sounds of his love beckoning for him to rise and find her once more. 

“Oh, Mrs. Harker, don’t be so dramatic. Our Johnny-boy has more fight in him than that.” Another voice replied, this one far less beautiful, though no less familiar.

Jonathon let his eyes wake again to the shallow light of the room, two shadows hovering by the entrance way. Dracula held the other figure by the nape of her neck, holding her out in front of him as a child would with a naughty kitten. She seemed to be shaking with silent sobs, her arms outstretched towards the spot on the floor where John lay. The Count flung her aside haphazardly, the small women falling to the floor where she tried to climb back onto all fours, to no immediate success.

  
Dracula crossed the room again, leaning his arm against the top of the wooden stake still keeping Jonathon nailed in place. “There, right where I left you.” He beamed bemusedly, resting his full weight against the post and turning to watch Mina struggle back to her feet patiently. “Your fiance has a definite spark to her. I can see why you chose each other.” He continued as Jonathon squirmed weakly in protest to the extra pressure now burrowing into him, though The Count paid him no mind. “She’ll make an excellent first meal for you.”  
  
Mina’s audible gasp filled the room as she fell from her hands once again, attempting for a third time to find balance on her knees. “Johnny would never hurt me.” She vowed, her voice strong and resigned despite her obviously vulnerable state.  
  
“You just might have been right. Once. But our poor boy has gotten himself in quite the state, wouldn’t you say, dear Mina? No thanks to you and your Sisters. You’re the ones who let him starve.” 

With a sickening crack, Dracula pulled the stake out from its place in one fell swoop, a wave of black tar strewing behind the gaping hole where it had once lay. Jonathon sputtered and choked on the blood pushing its way up and out of his throat, turning to his side and gasping for air he no longer needed. This was what death truly felt like, every inch of his earthly vessel caving in on itself and rotting from the inside out. He would scream had he any sliver of strength left in him. 

A choked sob could be heard from the corner of the room as Mina abandoned the endeavour to rise to her feet and instead began to inch her way closer to Jonathon on her hands and knees. This time, Dracula took a step back, allowing a clear pathway for the lovers to reunite. She was whispering his name over and over again, pleading to have him bring himself back to her. Jonathon blinked at her blankly, watching her features become larger and larger as they crawled their way close to his.  
  
Who was that? He recognized the garb, but it wasn’t Sister Agatha. 

“Jonathon, please. Please, stay with me. We’ll be alright, just stay…” She continued to plea. _“Stay. Stay!” The past whispers of another voice rang inside him like an echo._  
  


Mina reached forward and took hold of the fraying fabric of Jonathon’s night gown, trying to right him to a state she could hardly sustain herself. He managed to follow her lead and soon the world was turned straight again, the angle now feeling unnatural after his prolonged time sealed with the floor.  
  
“There. There’s my Johnny Blue-eyes.” She half smiled as she tried to stifle another sob. Tears were running down her grubby cheeks, her skin swollen and red where it had been struck by some kind of blunt object - some falling stones, perhaps. She pulled him into her arms, resting her slender hands on the fragile body beneath her. 

Jonathon could suddenly feel himself falling forward, nuzzling closer into the blonde woman’s tangled hair. There was something beneath it, calling to him. Something that was starting to shriek, begging him for release. He could feel his body tensing, his hands wrapped tighter around the figure holding him close. John could now see Dracula from over her shoulder, the vampire’s sights fixed on the two of them with an expression of eager anticipation. 

His mind numbed completely as Jonathon felt his teeth latch securely onto the pale skin of the kind stranger. The sound of Mina’s neck snapping under his hold was lost to him as soon as her blood began to flow. The sweet nectar poured into him freely, warming each tiny hair still remaining on his dying body. It was ecstasy. It was release and captivity all at once- Jonathon was at complete mercy to its will, bowing before it and worshiping it’s very essence as he drank in each glorious drop of life that spilled endlessly before him. Mina’s soft whimpers of pain and surprise were drowned as Jonathon overtook her, straddling her limp frame and using his free hand to keep her neck craned to one side, her hair falling in a river beside them. She fell silently quickly, moving only under Jonathon’s sway as he finished consuming every last sample of mortality left in her. Even then, he licked at her throat, as if trying to bid her spent body to gift him more. 

A cold and heavy hand on his shoulder was finally what snapped him out of his crazed stupor, Jonathon’s glassy expression turning to meet his creator’s eyes. If Dracula had thought him beautiful before, there was no comparison to the ravenous state he was in now. And most beautiful of all, would be it’s rarity. Within moments, Jonathon’s blood-shot eyes slowly returned to their natural hue.

“There’s a good boy.” Dracula hummed, reaching out for Jonathon with his white handkerchief and lightly dabbing at the spilled blood on his Bride’s pale cheek. He was glad Johnny had waited for him, getting to watch his fledgling take flight was truly an unparalleled delight. “You’ve done very well, tonight.” He continued to praise, watching greedily as realization slowly began to dawn on Jonathon’s face. That beautiful Humanity was also beginning to return back to him, and The Count drank it in as greedily as he would with the finest aristocratic vintage. 

“Oh god….oh god. M….Mina….” Jonathon began to exclaim, his eyes falling onto the mangled corpse below him, his body beginning to tremble again as the weight of his deed started to truly settle into him. Dracula smiled, raising from his spot and straightening his stained cape.

  
  
“Well, there is an upside to all this.” The Count sighed dramatically, Jonathon’s face turning slowly towards him in an ill fated attempt at finding console. 

“This way you’ll never forget her face, again.”

The harsh crack of his spine colliding with the stone of the convent wall woke Dracula up from his cold musings. The dawning of humanity that seemed to have begun spreading into Jonathon’s figure was gone. His bride had all together ascended into something beyond recognition. A creature more wild than that of his blood-sick wives and far more alive than the mild-mannered Mr. Harker had ever been. Heat was radiating from Jonathon’s newly awakened bones, the new vampire’s eyes alight with a sacred fury that seemed to burn into Dracula’s own sights.  
  
Despite the unexpected and alarming spectacle, Dracula almost looked bored, sighing deeply and barely bothering to lift his arms against his assailant. 

“Alright, alright. Very valiant of you...but that’s enough.” He commanded his bride, appreciating the passion from his new creation but conscious of the deadline he was currently working. Dracula could deal with Jonathon’s rage and contempt just as easily back at the castle. Plus, knowing Jonathon, he was likely to never hear the end of this. 

But Jonathon wasn’t letting go.

He was still holding Dracula by the thin material of his cape and quickly moved to smash him against the wall again, the foundation of the ancient monastery cracking slightly as he did so. Jonathon seemed to be beyond words, beyond expression.  
  
“Jonathon, that’s enough.” Dracula repeated pointedly, though there was a new curiosity in his eyes.  
  
His words were met with another forceful push back against the marble stone. Dracula looked into Jonathon’s eyes again and saw no hint of remorse, nor a single moment of hesitation. His commands meant nothing to him. Nothing but words. His Jonathon was somehow entirely resistant to the sire-fledgling bond that had plagued all of his former creations. Someone finally worthy of eternity. 

If seeing Jonathon leap from his tower had been like seeing the sun, this was like bathing in it’s light.

“Oh, I did choose you well!” Dracula exclaimed excitedly, only to have his head snap back to the crumbling wall once again.  
  
Jonathon erupted into what could only be described as a roar, his fangs reflecting the dim torchlight around them. The only sound louder than his cry was that of Dracula’s erupting laughter.  
  
“If I had known it would be this easy to break you, I would have arranged Mina’s demise months ago!” He continued, his words turning breathless as Jonathon’s next blow sent them both through the prison wall, the pair landing on their backs in the hallways among the rubble.

Dracula was so lost in his own amusement that it took him several long moments to realize John was attempting to decapitate him with his bare hands. The slight tugging sensation on his neck as his bride’s iron hands rung around it was barely an inconvenience, but he couldn’t let his latest childe get used to such poor manners.  
  
“Ah ah, John. Play nicely.” He chastised, laying his hands over Jonathon’s own and easily prying them off of him. Jonathon still look wild and near frenzy, his eyes entirely black and blood-shot, his grip desperate and unyielding. There was a savage beauty to it, one that Dracula relished but only for a moment longer - it was time to gain control again, for both of them.  
  
“Shhhh….calm down, now.” He sang, moving his grip to John’s wrists and slowly guiding them off his throat and back to his sides. Jonathon was still ontop of him, but the control had clearly shifted. His new creation continued to spit and struggle for several moments, though Dracula could feel the wild abandonment gradually dissipate.  
  
“There it is. Ground yourself again, my love. Find yourself.” He continued softly, the crimson tint of Jonathon’s eyes slowly sinking away again into powder blue, his jagged teeth smoothing back to their normal alignment. 

So quickly he returned to his former self, it was unprecedented. It was more than Dracula had even imagined. It was like watching a flower slowly unfurl it’s blooms to the morning air after centuries of living through ceaseless winter.  
  
Dracula smiled, and suddenly Jonathon Harker was back in his arms, the feral beast far buried again beneath his deceivingly quaint appearance. The pitiful vampire, too lost and overwhelmed in the throes of grief and confusion, finally collapsed blindly. The silent tears of returning compassion began to rain from him like summer nectar.   
  
Dracula wondered how long he’d be able to taste Mina hidden within them.   
  


_____________________________________________________________

Jonathon had seen himself being dragged back to Dracula’s castle a thousand times over. He had imagined it happening, had shuddered away at the nightmarish thought in the many silent nights he had spent in the Convent, where there was little beyond his own fears to keep him company. The reality of it turned out to be much less distressing than he had imagined. 

He felt numb to it all, at the end.

He was a prisoner being lead to the gallows ; a criminal serving the ultimate penance for his heinous deeds. And Jonathon was resigned. 

He deserved this. He deserved to be locked away in one of those wooden box with the other condemned souls Dracula kept in his tower. What other future could there possibly be for a creature - a monster- such as himself? 

He had accepted his coffin without contest - Dracula had almost seemed disappointed. It was not a comfortable grave. Jonathon found the soil beneath him to feel like prickles and bramble, and left in the silence he could think of nothing more but the state of his starvation and loneliness.  
  


The hours passed like years...or were the years flying past him like seconds? He couldn’t tell. Perhaps that was the point of purgatory, after all.

At first arrival, Jonathon had been able to feel some of his hair growing back in uneven lines across his sallow skin, some of the rosey warmth returning to his cheeks. But those sensations had quickly faded once more, John’s body creaking back to it’s decaying state.

Occasionally, he could hear the other brides scratching at their confines, hissing and spitting at each new sound of the castle settling night after night. Jonathon wasn’t sure if they were speaking to him - sometimes a collection of sounds would be strung together and have the inclinations of language, but the tongue was lost on him.  
  
He imagined the three of them together like beasts at a zoo, aware of each other’s encampment, all pacing the bars, desperate for a taste of the wild they were being held back from. He wondered what would happen if he let them out- if they would turn on their master, if the three of them could escape. If he could help teach them to learn compassion or..... 

None of it mattered, of course. He was never getting out of this place. He didn’t want to.

  
  
After what could have been centuries locked away in total darkness, there was finally an instant where Jonathon felt the air around him shift. There was a quiet humming, a strange vibration that grew stronger and stronger until it felt like there were thousands of daggers pressed to the edges of his skin. The other brides had began to wail, their strange and hissing voices calling out in a mournful song. John shuddered at the noises, willing himself to stay still and quiet, biting his lip with his remaining teeth to try and control the urge to join them.

He wondered if this was how wolves felt when they all joined in to call to the moon.  
  
The sounds and the stinging rose like a grand wave, threatening to overtake what was left of Jonathon’s sanity, when the roof of his coffin was suddenly removed and a blinding light poured onto him from above. He flinched at the intrusion, lifting what felt like a skeletal hand to help shield his eyes.

  
“Hello, darling!” Dracula announced amiably, “Did you have a pleasant sleep? I’ve heard the first night can be a little difficult.”

  
Jonathon felt his stomach sink deep into the soil below him - that was impossible. It had been weeks, months. It had been so long that he could hardly remember the sound of his own voice, could barely remember how to use his tongue to shape the sounds of response. Dracula waited patiently for a moment, though when no response came he continued.

“I’ve brought you a wedding gift.” He explained, lifting a small, dark hair figure up over the edge of the coffin so that John could see it from his reclined position. The child hadn’t made a sound since entering the room.

The uncomfortable stab of hunger within him made Jonathon wince again, though that sensation was one that he had gotten used to after his many months in Budapest. Dracula clicked his tongue disappointedly. 

“Now, Johnny, I understand you’re cross about being locked in here, but there’s still so much planning to do. I just don’t have time to keep an eye on you, as well. The least you could do is indulge me in eating a real dinner.”  
  
Jonathon found he had no fear left for the devil - he stared at him indigently, a cold hatred coursing through him as he did. Dracula didn’t seem to notice. 

  
“It won’t be much longer, our ship leaves in a week, and I need you strong enough to get yourself onboard.” The vampire continued, holding the child up closer to Jonathon’s face and shaking it slightly. Jonathon stared back, unwavering. 

“Don’t be spoiled, he’s still fresh.” Dracula added with a gleam in his eyes.  
  


As much as he had suffered in that shuttered coffin, as much as he felt every inch of his undead being craving the whisper of freedom and relief his creator was offering, Jonathon took a deep breath and turned his chin away from the other, his nose hitting against the wooden pannel of his box. 

  
“Stubborn as ever.” Dracula chastised, though there was a clear hint of amusement laced in his words. “I do hope you don’t lose that, it’s ever so charming.”  
  


John didn’t see The Count slide his nail across the poor creature’s throat, but he could sense it as the warm blood began trickling down into his mouth. From that moment, he was lost.

Jonathon only became aware of himself again when he realized he was sucking dryly at the child’s throat, the tiny frame limp and cool in his arms. John felt warm again, the youth and vigor of the village son’s soul now flowing through him. Even the prickles of the soil beneath him were giving way, his mind clearing and helping to slowly awake his other senses. He realized he could hear the other bride’s voices, their real voices, for the first time. The Romanian words were entangled against one another as they called out to the night.

_“So hungry….”_

_  
“Always so good to us, master…”_

_  
“Give him to us…”_

_  
“Let us out to greet our new brother...”  
  
_

_“.....Always so hungry....”  
  
_

_“You’ve given him supper and left us to starve…”_  
  


Jonathon thought for a moment he would get lost in their hypnotic pleas, until he felt the limp figure in his hands slowly slip from his deft fingers. Much to his surprise, he saw Dracula gently clutch the child and pull it back through the opening of the coffin. Jonathon let it go freely, thankful that he wouldn’t be left alone with the reminder of his sins. Taking it was perhaps the first merciful thing he had ever seen the vampire do, if that was his intention.  
  
“Now, it's time to rest again. Try not to pay the others any mind.” Dracula said as he heaved the great lid back to the edge of the coffin. "They do so love to make martyrs of themselves."   
  
Jonathon closed his eyes passively, preparing once again for the painfulness of the solitary dark. "Maybe you should have thought about that before you killed them..." He mused scathingly.

As the lid to his grave slid closed once again, Jonathon could hear Dracula's final words whispered breathlessly at his ear. 

"Save that wit for the journey ahead, darling. We're going to need it."


End file.
